Cadavre Exquise

The hangman has bundled the day's wares into rough sacks, setting them out for doctors, anatomists and medical students to purchase. Stripped of their clothes, of course.

Jonathan, a mid-twenties medical student, has ventured down to the gallows after the days hangings have been finished to buy a corpse for his studies. After poking about through the bags and prodding the stomachs and sides of the deceased, he makes his selection and pays the hangman (not only for the body, but also for helping him move the corpse into a carriage).

The hangman, having counted Jonathan's money, is all too happy to assist the young man with his morbid purchase and see him on his way.

It's dark by the time Jonathan gets to his flat. He drags the body in to his room and lays it on the floor. After quickly ascertaining that it isn't dripping or oozing onto his carpets, he blows out the candle, undresses and tucks himself into bed with a happy sigh. Tomorrow he can practice on a fresh corpse.

Several hours later, he's awoken from his sleep by strange shuffling, moaning noises from the floor.

Jonathan feels an absolute horror come over him. This must be a nightmare. That or someone has broken into his flat. The corpse cannot be moving.

The sounds become more distinct; something is moving inside the sack, trying to claw its way out.

Jonathan practically leaps off the bed, scrambling for his candle and manages with shaking hands to light it.

In the flickering candlelight, Jonathan can see a pale foot that has worked its way out of the sack and is held only by the rope holding it shut. The sack is clearly moving.

With some apprehension, the medical student unties the sack and begins to pull it off the naked and squirming corpse.

The man within, who had managed to struggle into a sitting position, falls over as soon as the sack is no longer keeping his body and limbs close together. Gasping, the former corpse claws at his throat, coughing painfully.

Jonathan pulls the man up into his chest, and with some difficulty, lifts him onto the bed. He unties the rope from around the man's wrists and pulls the remnants of the noose off his neck, trying to remove the fibers of rope from the torn skin.

The man, ashen-pale and visibly trembling, even in the scarce light, rests against Jonathan's chest, unable to do much more than groan and twitch in pain when the student's hands find an especially sensitive part of his raw neck.

Jonathan manages to pull all the visible fibers from the stranger's neck. Since the man can't talk yet, he quickly stretches the man out, giving him a bar to hold and using his scalpel to let out blood that may have died.

Grimacing, the man turns away, quite helpless and unable to stop Jonathan, but trusting him, as he clearly knows what he's doing. He concentrates on breathing, noticing with some alarm that it sounds more like wheezing, on the pain, and on the fact that, despite having been hung that morning, he's alive.

Jonathan bleeds the stranger until he can feel his pulse slow a little, then puts pressure on the wound until it closes. "Can you speak yet?"

The man relaxes when the implements of bleeding are taken away, and he opens his mouth. He has to cough and make guttural sounds before he can finally reply, "Yes." He's quite young, probably under twenty, hardly a man, after all.

"I'm Jonathan."

"Shelby," the hanged man croaks, slowly moving his arms until he can rub feeling back into his wrists and hands.

Jonathan takes over, helping to increase circulation through the man's hands.

"Thank you," the boy murmurs, his voice gradually sounding stronger. "Where am I?"

"My flat." he says, rubbing the boy's hands. "I... bought you as a corpse."

Recoiling, Shelby stares at the student with wide, horrified eyes. Shaking his head in denial, he hisses, "Corpse?"

"The hangman was selling corpses from today." he nodded.

Shelby nods. "Why did you...buy?" Shuddering, he painfully wraps his arms around himself, huddled on the bed.

"I'm a medical student, I need cadavers to study."

"You were going to...cut?" Shelby's eyes, somehow, get even wider, and he edges away from Jonathan.

"Yes.. when you were a corpse." he assures him.

"...won't kill me?"

"No."

Suddenly, Shelby grips Jonathan's arm. "Please don't turn me in!" he cries, followed by a bout of coughing.

Jonathan pushes him down into the bed, stroking his hair. "I... I won't."

Shelby's shoulders lower as he relaxes, and he nods his thanks, finding the hair stroking very comforting as he struggles not to weep. He's exhausted and his throat feels like he's swallowed acid, and he's glad to be taken care of.

"Just rest for tonight, we'll figure it out in the morning." Jonathan murmured, suddenly realizing that he was nude and grabbing a robe.

Yawning, Shelby nods and nuzzles happily into Jonathan's side. He hadn't even noticed that the other man was naked.

Jonathan strokes his hair, then rubs the boy's neck and chest gently, stroking his soft skin.

"...I'm not hurt anywhere else..." the boy croaks, thinking that the doctor is checking him for injuries.

Jonathan chuckles. "No, I don't think so." That hadn't been what he was doing, but it was a good excuse to touch more of him. He explored the boy more intensely.

"Alright," Shelby says, puzzled but trusting. Also, he's too weary to do much about it, although he finds himself blushing and isn't sure why.

The medical student finds himself toying with Shelby's nipples absentmindedly.

Shelby squirms, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "Maybe I should just go now," he whispers.

Jonathan shook his head. "Why were you being hanged?"

"...sodomy..."

Jonathan laughed softly, wrapping his arms around Shelby's thin frame. "Were you guilty?"

Shelby shakes his head, crying out as the movement tears more small wounds in his neck.

Jonathan stroked his hair, one hand sliding down to part the boy's asscheeks, sliding a finger up against his puckered anus.

"Ahhh!" Shelby bucks, trying violently to escape the intrusion.

Jonathan held him close, keeping his finger pressed against the boy's entrance. "It'll feel nice."

Shivering, Shelby whimpers, "You're not going to let me go, are you?"

"Do you really want me to stop?" Jonathan slid his finger into the boy to brush up against his prostate.

Shelby gasps, bucking again, but for a different reason now. He's terrified by this man, but the feeling...he has no idea what it is or what it means, but it feels...he shakes his head, pressing himself closer to Jonathan.

Jonathan removed his finger, digging a bottle of oil out of his desk quickly and sliding two fingers back in, curling them.

Shelby rolls his face into the mattress to stifle a scream, one hand finding his little cock and beginning to pump it as Jonathan assaults his rear.

Jonathan presses his fingertips to Shelby's prostate, pressing his cock up against the boy's thigh.

"Ahh! Yes!" Shelby is quite lost in the moment, forgetting the ridiculous circumstances and his near death in the pleasure.

Jonathan stretches the boy further with a third finger, nibbling on his shoulder, carefully away from the rope marks.

Thrashing, Shelby cums into the bedding with a muffled shriek, nearly kicking Jonathan with his flailing legs.

Graverobbin' Ferre

(Write a plan for grave-robbing as Combeferre)

1. I need to obtain a cadaver for anatomy class
2. I have no idea how to do so
3. I need a plan
4. They are difficult to come by, which is why the school has run out--see 1.
5. I am wary of paying a body snatcher
6. I will have to produce a cadaver myself
7. I will need to locate a fresh grave
8. See 2.
9. See 3.
10. Perhaps I can ask Bahorel
11. I suppose I could wander graveyards looking for freshly turned earth
12. Probably guards/gates/dogs
13. I need a shovel, a lantern with shade, and pry bar
14. Could I bribe a guard?
15. Is that legal?
16. I suppose not. See 5.
17. However, see 1.

a) obtain items--see 13

b) see 11.

c) 14.

Raphael's (special) Fantasy

(Write about an abduction fantasy from Raphael’s point of view. Make it sexy.)

They came for me in the middle of the night. I don’t know how they got past the dogs, the guards, the locks, the doors…all I knew was being awoken by strong, rough hands in the dark, a hand clamped painfully tight over my mouth to keep me from screaming. I struggled as best I could, trying everything my father had taught me, every dirty trick Bruno had taught me; but they were too big, too strong. I was young and slender and half-asleep and startled. Maybe scared.

One of them threw me over his shoulder, his clothes dirty and smelling of sweat. I started to protest, and the world went dark.

When I came to, it was still dark. There were scraps of light from time to time, and there was enough air. A greasy rag was in my mouth, tied around my head. My wrists and ankles were also tied--enough to keep me from moving, but not enough to hurt. I squirmed about, trying to figure out where I was. It was noisy, and smelly, and I could hear voices.

A car trunk. Now, I was afraid. At best, I was being held for ransom. At worst…

I swallowed hard, trying not to think about it.

The car slowed, and stopped. I heard the doors slam, voices approaching. I tried to cover my eyes as the trunk was opened by a man with a flashlight pointed at me, forgetting my hands were tied.

I was scooped up again, tossed over a different shoulder (that smelled slightly better) and brought into a building. It was open and echoed and cold and dark, lit by only a few bare bulbs. I was dumped on a chair, my wrists and ankles tied to it, the gag left in. A scratchy hood was thrown over my head, blocking out almost all the dim light. I heard them walking away. I panicked a little, tried to call after them, but could only make muffled noises. I realized I was breathing too fast, that I had to calm down.

I did, finally, I think mostly out of boredom. I don’t know how long they left me alone, but I had actually started to fall asleep gain, sagging into the ropes holding me to the chair, when I felt a gentle hand on my thigh.

“Bruno, it’s too early…” I started to say. I got as far as “Mmm, mmf” before I woke completely and remembered I was gagged.

I heard a man chuckle and say something. The hood was pulled off, and I blinked. Another light had been brought and was directly in front of me, over the shoulder of the man touching me. I could dimly make out two other, larger men standing some distance away, obviously menacing.

The man with his hand on my thigh was different. He wasn’t an enforcer or a thug, he was classy--nice, tailored suit, well-cut hair, pleasant cologne…sort of like my father, but sexier. Unless you’re Bruno.

“Your father killed my brother,” the man says, his manicured fingers tracing up and down my leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “I thought about killing you, but…” his other hand raises to stroke my cheek, twining in my hair, “I heard you were pretty. I’m not disappointed.”

Handsome, I think, not pretty. And if this were really happening, it would just be creepy, not sexy. But it’s not, so it can be. He’s the most handsome, intimidating, sexy, dangerous man I’ve ever met (besides Father) and he’s stroking me and it feels so nice.

“Let’s take this off so I can see those lips,” he says gently, taking off the gag.

I work my jaw, glaring at him a little, even though I’m hard and I want him, but I can’t let him know that.

He stands and unbuttons his pressed suit pants, pulling his cock out of his silk boxers. “If you bite,” he says, “you’ll be dead before I feel your teeth.”

I nod, turning my head away as he brings his hips closer. He grabs a fistful of my hair, turning my face to his penis.

I open my mouth, allowing it to enter me. It’s warm--no, hot--and a little salty. I carefully keep my teeth out of the way as he pushes it further and further until I can feel his scratchy hairs on my lip. He pulls it out almost all the way, then back in, and I really want to touch myself, but I’m still tied up so I can’t, so he just fucks my mouth as I’m tied to the chair, his hand on the back of it and in my hair to keep me from falling over backwards.

Just as he cums, I see the other men hit the floor.

The man looks up at the thud of their bodies, pulling away from me, his cock going soft.

Bruno is standing behind him, his gun still smoking, a big grin on his face. He puts the hot barrel to the man’s forehead, and the man winces as the hot metal touches him.

“Wait,” I say. “He touched me. He made me suck his cock.”

Bruno’s expression gets even more terrible.

“You should make him suck yours,” I say, “but make sure he can’t bite you.”

Bruno nods and forces the man to his knees, taking his own cock out. He uses the butt of his gun to knock out the man’s teeth before making the man suck him. As he cums, Bruno pulls the trigger and blows the man’s brains out.

I wish Bruno had untied my hands first, but he does now, then he picks me up and we walk away, and he asks, “Want ice cream, Raph?”

Canon!Javert

(In case you haven't noticed, our usual Javert is...so very, very far from canon. So, we thought we'd try something new...)

Javert is exhausted, furious, sore and tired. Also thirsty. He's been tied to the god-foresaken pole for...he's lost track of how much time. The initial...not fear, but...caution...has worn off, to be replaced by an intolerable, enforced stillness.

A man approaches, talking to Enjolras. That damn man follows him everywhere! "I'll take this for my reward." Valjean is saying.

Javert glances up at the sound, and quickly looks away again, trying not to show any reaction. Of course, he thinks. Just when he thought the situation couldn't get any more absurd...he resolutely stares at the far wall, unwavering.

He listens to Enjolras offering Valjean a pistol, to the man refusing, saying that a knife was quieter. Valjean cut the younger man's bonds and led him away from the battle, through quieter streets.

Javert remains silent throughout, the only sign that he isn't deaf the tightness of his jaw--and, perhaps, the complete lack of attention itself. He finds himself quietly recalling his life as he prepares for death--all in all, a worthwhile one, and certainly not what its beginnings would have predicted. He allows himself a minute smile; a twitching of the lip, really.

As soon as the noise and lights die down, Valjean cuts the rope from Javert's wrists, stepping away from him. He pockets his knife.

Javert blinks, standing in the dim light, giving no indication that he's not still bound. By some trick of the battle, the gunsounds fall silent long enough for the muted slither of the rope falling to the pavement. "Wha--" the inspector begins, not realizing what's happened. When he does, he draws himself to his full height, sneering a little at his rescuer. "You annoy me. Kill me, rather."

"I set you free." Valjean said, wearily.

"Why?!" The word is torn from Javert's throat, forcing itself through his tightened lips. It sounds like a curse. He wants to scream, to violently attack Valjean...but his days of such rashness are long gone.

"I've learned mercy and forgiveness. It's not something I could ever unlearn, nor would I wish to." Valjean sighed, turning back to the barricade.

"Stop!"

He did, silently. He didn't turn back to look at the inspector, nor did he speak.

Now that Valjean has done what he asked, Javert looks somewhat at a loss. "...what now?" he asks, barely a whisper.

"I can't tell you that." he shrugged, still not looking at Javert.

Without another word, the inspector turns on his heel and stalks off into the night.

***

Valjean walks along the river, feeling endlessly tired and saddened by the deaths he'd witnessed earlier that night.

If he were to look up, he would see a strangely familiar lean, tall shadow standing on the railing of a bridge.

He leans on a bench near the river, looking briefly up at the stars.

He hears the splash of something large hitting the water

Valjean sees a man's figure and immediately dives into the river after the stranger.

Javert is fighting to stay completely still, to just give into unconsciousness and the cold water, to resist his own stubborn will and let go.

He feels himself grabbed about the waist and someone bodily pulling him upwards and out of the water. In the dark, neither of them know each other, but once Valjean manages to get Javert up onto the street again, the streetlamps shed a bit more light over them.

Javert groans weakly, limbs still spread as though he's floating, eyes tightly shut as though he can simply will his rescue out of existence.

Valjean is almost afraid to speak after realizing who it was he'd saved. *I did this.* he thought, *The man tried to drown himself because I released him.* He grimaced, standing and picking Javert up in his arms like a child. The inspector is small and thin enough compared to Valjean that he can easily carry him home.

As soon as he's pressed to Valjean's warm, strong chest, Javert falls unconscious....

***

Valjean brings him home, undresses him and gives him a hot bath to warm him up. At first he's afraid the thin man might die of cold, but he's warm soon enough and Valjean tucks him into his bed. He goes to read in his chair, but soon falls asleep with his book in his lap.

Javert wakes with a start in the unfamiliar, too-soft and too-warm bed, almost breaking his shin on a piece of furniture as he throws himself out of bed. Recovering, he sits on the edge of the bed, catching his breath and looking around. He takes a great, hissing breath when he sees Valjean, and observes the convict coldly.

Valjean is obviously asleep, hands relaxed and open, still holding his book. His head is back a little. His only movement is the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Satisfied that his foe is asleep, Javert contemplates simply arresting him where he sits, but when he reaches for his handcuffs, he instead finds himself...nude. Horrified, the only articles of clothing he can find quickly are... an enormous pair of drawers that are belted to fit him. He glowers at the sleeping man again, settling his face onto his hands to watch and wait and think.

After a slow yawn, Valjean's eyes open and his eyes flicker over to Javert. He raises an eyebrow at the way the man is dressed, but doesn't remark on it. "Would you like some coffee? Something to eat?" he asks softly.

"Where are my clothes?" the inspector demands in his most controlled voice.

"Drying, by the fire." he indicated with a hand, putting his book down with the other. He kept his movements short and slow, trying not to startle the inspector. "I'll find you something else to wear." he stood.

Some part of Javert realizes why Valjean is moving the way he is, and it irks him further on a subconscious level. "It's fine," he growls. "There's a station not far from here. I'll walk."

"If you can wait, your clothes will be dry soon." he murmured, going to check on them. He brought back a smallish coat and a pair of pants. "These will at least be... more decent."

"...thank you," Javert says, as coldly as the words can be said and still actually have the same meaning. He takes the clothes, giving them a disdainful look after comparing them to Valjean. "Steal these, did you?"

"No, a boy left them here." he flushed a little as he realized how that sounded. "I let some of the gamins stay here, I get them new clothes when they need them."

Javert raises an eyebrow, smirking silently. "I see." He pulls on the coat, but when he attempts to stand his ankle collapses beneath him. He disappears behind the bed for a moment, before coming back into view, pulling himself back onto the bed, face white with pain.

Valjean goes around the bed, picking him up as if he weighs nothing (which he does) and putting him up against the pillows.

Javert has an internal explosion at being handled in such a way, his left eyelid twitching to show it. "I must have hurt my ankle when I...fell." He doesn't like lying, under any circumstances, but he can't force the word 'jump' past his lips.

The large man disappears for a moment, coming back with a cloth wrap. "Did you... fall?" Valjean asks, sitting at the foot of the bed and taking Javert's ankle into his lap and wrapping it gently.

The inspector gives Valjean a warning look at his question. "Yes." He watches the ankle-wrapping with some interest. "Where did you learn to do that?" he interrogates.

"When I was mayor." he says, looking at Javert sidelong.

"Mmm. Helping prostitutes, no doubt." Javert winces imperceptibly as Valjean finishes tying the bandage, with just the ghost of a smile.

Valjean sighs, not answering. He massages Javert's ankle gently, then moves down to his foot.

The inspector groans at the unfamiliar treatment, watching Valjean warily, like an animal caught in a baited trap.

"Does it hurt too much?" Valjean asks softly.

"No. It's...nice." He says the word like something unpleasant--say a rat walking over your foot.

Valjean smiles a little, not stopping.

Javert smiles back, with a nearly audible creak. "...why?" he asks, much less severely.

Javert smiles back, with a nearly audible creak. "...why?" he asks, much less severely.

"Why?"

"Why did you...save me? Why are you doing this. Why...why don't you hate me?"

"I can't hate you, Javert." Valjean shook his head. "And I jumped in to save you because it was right."

"You didn't know it was me, did you?" he asks wryly, ignoring the first statement for now.

"No, it didn't matter." Valjean shook his head.

Javert sighs. "I know. You jumped in, and you could have killed yourself in the process, and you didn't even know who it was. And even when you did..." he gestures around the room. "Really, doilies?"

Valjean frowned. "What do the doilies have to do with anything?"

"...why do you have them?" Javert smiles openly for the first time in actual amusement.

"They're nice- it doesn't matter if I have doilies!" he smiled a little too, feeling suddenly an enormous sense of relief.

Javert gives a more subtle, almost feline smile, cozying into the blankets. "Is all this so I won't denounce you and have you arrested?"

"No," he chuckled, "though that would be nice."

The inspector sighs, exasperated. "...I didn't think so. What exactly happened to you? When and why and how did you become all...saintly..." he says the word with some distaste.

"I was given a second chance." he said softly. "That's all it took."

Javert glares at him, not full-force. "And what sort of miraculous chance was this?"

"I stayed with a Bishop, not long after I was released. I was tired and angry. I'd just learned that I wouldn't make the same wage as another man, being a convict. The Bishop let me stay the night. I... stole from him and ran." he said, voice full of shame.

Javert makes a nonchalant, unsurprised face, nodding for the convict to continue.

"When I was caught by the gendarmes, the Bishop told them that he had given me the silver as a gift, and he scolded me for not taking everything he had supposedly given me. He told me to use the silver he'd given me to make a better life and to be an honest man. He kept me from going to prison again. He gave me a second chance."

Javert stifles a yawn, looking unconvinced. He gives a bitter sort of chuckle. "If only we had had this Bishop visit the prison, we could have spared the expense of searching for you, what was it...three times?"

"What makes you so bitter? Don't you believe men can change?" Valjean lay next to him against the pillows.

"No." Javert twitches as the other touches the bed beside him, as though he finds the man's mere proximity physically painful.

"Why not?" Valjean didn't touch Javert, in fact, he pulled away a little.

Javert looks sidelong at Valjean, moving infinitesimally closer. "Because I have never seen it happen." He looks suddenly exhausted.

Valjean looks at him, frowning. "You should sleep." he reaches out slowly and touches Javert's face. "You look exhausted."

Javert's face leans into the touch, while the rest of him shivers and moves away, twisting his neck at a rather uncomfortable angle. "Prove to me you've changed," he whispers.

"How can I prove it?" Valjean's thumb strokes Javert's cheek gently.

Javert closes his eyes. "Why didn't you kill me when you had a chance at the barricade?"

"I've never killed a man and I never want to." he sighed, lowering his hand to Javert's neck.

Javert scoffs in disbelief.

"Have you ever killed a man, inspector?" Valjean stiffens, pulling his hand back.

Javert sighs, and shakes his head. "No, I haven't. I'm...sorry." He looks, for an instant, longingly at the hand.

Valjean hesitates, then puts his hand on Javert's shoulder, amiably.

Javert freezes for a moment, then nestles into the shoulder.

Javert/Valjean

Javert, refreshed from his time at home, is soon thinking of ways to repair his relationship with Valjean. In a moment of uncharacteristic cowardice, he considers simply slipping a note into the convict's hand...but is not entirely sure the man can read. And if the note fell into the wrong hands...Javert finds himself promoted upon his return, so he sends an underling to bring Valjean to his room.

Valjean follows the officer silently, not sure what to expect, though not bothering to keep a positive outlook. It was likely rape or a beating he had to look forward to.

Javert is sitting on his 'new' chair, hands folded in front of him, shoulders hunched. He gestures for Valjean to sit on the narrow cot. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not here to hurt you."

Valjean sits down, not saying a word. He keeps his expression blank. Seeing Javert still hurts a little.

Javert is startled and ashamed to find that he can't meet the other's eyes. "...I brought you here to apologize. ...I'm sorry."

Valjean opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. He was floored. "I..." he frowned, trying to catch Javert's eyes. "You mean that?"

Javert finally raises his face, hands still folded. His eyes are full of all the intensity of inexpressible emotion. "Yes," he says, rather superfluously.

Valjean nodded, unable to keep his gaze for long. He stared down at his hands, clenched in his lap. He was fighting back tears. Before the apology he hadn't realized how much this had been eating at him.

Javert, on impulse, almost leaps off the chair, kneeling in front of the cot. He takes one of Valjean's massive hands, pressing it to his face. He turns to the side, offering his face for a blow.

Valjean presses his other hand to Javert's face, fingers curling behind his neck to pull him into a kiss.

"Ahh..." Javert's need to be punished, to have his body suffer for wronging Valjean, becomes overwhelming. He twists away, stripping off his shirt, kneeling with his bared back to the other.

Valjean's fingers stroke down his back gently. Slowly, he wraps his arms around Javert's shoulders, fingers exploring the young man's muscular chest.

Javert finds himself getting hard, tears streaming down his face. He shakes his head vigorously, unable to express what he wants, needs, from the other man.

Valjean frowns at Javert's apparent frustration, holding him tightly, pulling him against his chest. "Javert..."

"Hurt me, damn you! Why won't you..." Javert struggles against the strong arms, hurting himself.

Valjean dug his fingernails in a little, trying to still Javert, and giving him a little pain. He wasn't sure exactly what to do with someone who wanted to be hurt. He'd fought before, but ... that was different.

Javert nods, cock getting fully erect, pulling against the nails a little. "...better..." he sighs.

"I... don't know how to.." Valjean manages, face buried in Javert's dark hair.

Javert looks up, twisting his neck around. "...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Valjean smiles a little, nestling his cheek against Javert's jaw. "It's alright."

Javert turns in Valjean's arms so he's facing the larger man, eyes shining with the need for comfort and forgiveness.

Valjean can practically feel his heart melting. Javert always seemed cold and impenetrable as a guard, but he was really just a boy. He was tired and alone and scared. Valjean kissed his cheek softly. "It's alright." he repeated.

Javert nods, clearly relieved. One lean hand slips between Valjean's thighs; he's not sure how else to show his gratitude, relief or caring.

The other man groaned quietly, arching his back. He pushed Javert back onto the bed, starting to strip off his clothing.

Javert cooperates completely, helping where he can, narrow chest heaving with anticipation. His hands grope for whatever part of his lover is within reach.

Valjean finishes undressing and helps Javert strip, kissing every inch of newly revealed skin.

Javert moans, rolling onto his front, hands clasped behind him as though restrained by invisible handcuffs, presenting himself.

Valjean's mouth slid down Javert's front to nibble down his hard stomach. He slowly took the other's erection in his mouth, eyes closing with pleasure.

Javert allows himself to be flipped. He hopes he can hold back; much as he likes being blown (and figuring this is Valjean's first), he really wants to be fucked right now.

Valjean drew his teeth up the darker man's shaft, none too gently.

Javert cries out at the unexpected sensation, his eyes locking with his lover's.

Valjean's eyes glitter a little, mischievously. He covers the other's member with his mouth completely again, biting at the base and dragging his teeth up the length of Javert's erection.

Javert shrieks, covering his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound. Pre-cum beads the tip of his cock, head flying back, trying not to thrust and risk damage.

Valjean raises his head, flushed and looking oddly triumphant.

"No no no! Don' stop!" Javert slurs, sounding almost drunk.

Grinning, he takes the other's cock in his mouth again, this time running his tongue and teeth over the other's head slowly.

Javert has most of his hand stuffed in his mouth to quiet himself; he likes his blows rougher than most men are comfortable giving or taking. His face goes red as he draws close.

Valjean bites at the base of Javert's head experimentally, with enough force to bruise, though he's still sucking to take some of the pressure off.

Tears fill Javert's eyes, as he's totally unsure whether it's pain or pleasure that he's feeling. With a careful half-buck, Javert comes in Valjean's mouth, back arching before he collapses in a sweating heap back to the cot.

Valjean swallows, a few drops dribbling down his chin. He's panting a little too, face flushed. He strokes one finger up Javert's dwindling length, laying next to him.

Eyes heavy lidded, Javert burrows into the massive chest, moaning a little at the final contact. For a few minutes, it's all he can do to breathe.

"I didn't hurt you badly, did I?" Valjean whispered into the other's soft hair, undoing the hair ribbon to let the dark waves loose.

Javert shakes his head slowly and heavily, rolling so he can look at Valjean. "...it was perfect. Most men wouldn't risk that."

He smiled, kissing the other man softly.

Javert kisses back eagerly, firming a little already. "...thank you." he murmurs, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Valjean wiped the tear away gently. "I... thank you, Javert. I'm sorry."

"...what do you have to be sorry for?"

"The way I reacted after we were found. For some of what I said." he drew his fingers through the roma's long hair. "I wish I hadn't hurt you"

Javert shakes his head. "I deserved every word, all of it. I wronged you..." Javert gives a little purr, nestling into the petting-hand, hardening a little more. "Me too."

Valjean kissed the other, pulling the lean boy onto his chest. His fingers tugged at Javert's hair a little, completely tangled up in it.

Javert laughs. "Careful. You wouldn't be the first it's eaten."

Valjean laughed softly. "I can tell. It's so thick and soft..." he strokes it, wonderingly. His own greying hair was kept short, as prisoners' hair usually was.

Javert playfully rolls into the position he assumed earlier, offering himself.

Valjean keeps one hand in Javert's hair, as if holding reins. He straddles Javert, nudging his still-erect cock against the other's entrance.

"...yessss.." Javert's head is tugged back a little, a sensation he quite enjoys. His hands are still 'cuffed' on his back, so he can reach back a little and stroke Valjean's chest.

"Do you have any oil?" Valjean murmured, still teasing the other's entrance.

Javert moans with desire and frustration, gesturing wildly under the cot.

Valjean leans over the edge, grabbing a small bottle and pouring some into his palm to lube himself up. He watches Javert writhe with need, practically dripping with pre-cum already

Javert fights to hold his (unusually submissive...) position, groaning now.

Valjean slid his now oiled length into the other's tight ass, groaning.

"...ah!" Javert cries, forcing his mouth lower so his paper-thin pillow muffles him. He rocks against Valjean, straining to take as much as he can, quickly.

The other is sheathed completely now, practically trembling. He starts to rock his hips as slowly as he can bear, wanting it to last forever.

Javert fights to match Valjean's pace, biting his lip with need and urgency.

The prisoner cried out a little as he slid completely in again, brushing Javert's prostate. His fingers tightened in the officer's hair, pulling back and forcing him out of the pillow.

Javert, arched and pinned to just this side of pain, can't really move, forced to let Valjean work him, nearly helpless. His cock, already slick with come, is almost painfully hard.

Valjean forces himself completely inside the other again and again, his thin hips nearly bruising Javert's ass. He keeps one hand tangled in the other, but the other goes to grab the roma's wrists, pinning them hard to Javert's back.

Javert, who had of course put his wrists in that position for just such a reason, is forced over the edge, bucking and rocking as best he can, biting his lip to keep from screaming his orgasm.

Valjean feels the other tighten around his length and has to clap a hand over his own mouth to keep himself from screaming. His hips buck wildly for a few seconds before he collapses on top of Javert

Javert's eyes roll, and he sprawls over the bed, drenched in various fluids.

Valjean groans, managing to flop off of the smaller man and collapse in a heap of limbs and sticky fluids

Javert laughs wildly; he knows that tonight, of all nights, he won't be heard or bothered--a prisoner was executed, so all the guards are drunk.

Valjean chuckles, groaning with pleasure. His muscles are getting stiff from using them in ways they aren't used to being used anymore.

Javert worms out from under Valjean, nudging the larger man onto his front. "I'll massage you."

Valjean groaned. "Oh god that feels good." he arched back into Javert's skilled hands. "Mmmmm..."

Javert smiles; he appreciates lovers who want more than sex. He grabs the bottle of oil (it's multipurpose!) applying some to the broad, scarred back. "Mmm...so handsome. I bet you hear that a lot."

"Hardly." he murmured, eyes fluttering closed. "Remember where we are." he reminded his lover.

Javert raises an eyebrow. "In this place a handsome or pretty man has great value. More, perhaps, than..." he gestures vaguely outside the prison compound.

Valjean looked over his shoulder at Javert, smirking. "I haven't been called handsome for a few years. Nor have I had a lover beyond you, for the same amount of time."

Javert is a little unsettled by the smirk, blushing faintly. "...well....I didn't think anyone would...could...take advantage of you...but surely....there are other situations?"

He shook his head. "Not here." he sat up a little, rolling under Javert so that he was on his back. "You're beautiful, Javert."

Javert looks away, still not at ease. "....I understand. But to be alone...isn't that worse?"

"I'd rather be alone." he smiled sadly, touching the side of the roma's face.

Javert physically cannot understand this. To be alone is to be less than a person, to be dead. "I'm...sorry..." he murmurs, covering the hand with his own.

"Why?" Valjean sat up, leaning back against Javert's headboard, the gypsy in his lap. "I'm alright. And now I have you." he nestled against Javert's chest.

Javert's eyes close, in raptures at being pressed against a large, warm, naked mass. "You...know that I am Roma. I have never been alone in my life, not for one second." he doesn't mention the whipping. "...I could never...even..." he clears his throat, sounding close to tears, as he reveals his secret. "...even the rape is better than being alone."

Valjean wrapped his arms around Javert tightly. He wasn't sure what to say. "I'm here." he murmurs, stroking the young man's dark hair.

Javert nods, not able to speak, or needing to. His hand finds and clutches Valjean's free one, almost asleep. "...we have the morning together, too. You'd better be ready."

He chuckled softly. "Nothing in my life could prepare me." he kissed the other's neck and ear.

Javert mutters something about yellow flowers, and is asleep.

Valjean smiles, closing his eyes and relaxing against the warm skin. He stroked Javert's hair until he fell asleep.

Javert woke up to an uncomfortable lump poking into his back. He squirms, trying to get the lump out of his spine, still half asleep.

The squirming elicited a groan from the warm body beneath him.

The Roma smiles, rolling to kiss Valjean. "Mmm...pleasant dreams?" he teases.

Valjean groaned again, smiling sleepily. He kissed back softly. "Mmm yes. I dreamed I was going to wake up with a beautiful young man laying on top of me."

Javert smiles feyly, climbing onto the larger man. "Gypsies are known for making dreams come true...with tricks, of course."

"Is this a trick?" Valjean grinned up at him, putting his hands behind his head. "Are you merely slight of hand?" he teased.

The Roma only smiles harder, creeping down Valjean until his lips hover over the lump. "Hello there," he says conversationally to Valjean's cock, "How are you this morning? A little dry, you say? Yes. I concur."

Valjean blushed. "Wha- ohhhhh..." he managed.

Javert gathers saliva in his mouth a moment, before rolling his mouth down over the organ, leaving a bead of spit gathered on the head.

Valjean's hips bucked up into the other's mouth. His fingers clutched at the pillows. "Ja-javert..." he panted.

"...yes?" Javert says innocently, licking Valjean's head. He rests his hands on the other's hips, pinning him as best he can.

"Please don't stop..." he begged, pleading helplessly. "Oh please..."

"Never. Not until..." his words are cut off as he slides his mouth further, Valjean's head hitting the back of his throat without issue

The other choked on a scream, writhing under Javert's hands, gasping. It didn't take him long to cum.

Javert swallows each drop, catlike, licking Valjean's head clean, before laying across the other's chest, smiling at him.

Valjean could hardly catch his breath, his broad chest heaving beneath Javert. "Dieu." he managed.

Javert smiles, curling onto the chest, yawning a little. "...now nothing will poke me for a while."

"Mmmm." Valjean murmured, kissing Javert's ear softly. "Not for a long time." he nestled warmly with the other for awhile. "Javert... tell me about how you grew up. What was it like?" he asked.

"...better not be toooo long..." Javert laughs. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning." he grinned.

"What do you know of my people, of the Roma?"

"Only what I've heard. And most of it's just rumours, gossip, lies." he flushed a little, stroking Javert's dark chest.

Javert shrugs, trying not to purr at the touch. "Tell me, please. I know it's not how you feel." He laughs, touching the hand on his chest, the dampness of the cot. "

“...clearly."

"Well, that they steal children, that they abuse them and treat their own like slaves.. that they're thieves and murderers." he murmured, apologetically.

Javert laughs. "Have you heard the word gadje?"

He shook his head. "No.. what does it mean?"

"It's used to describe non-Roma. Literally, it means "mark"; someone to get easy money from." The boy's eyes darken, and he lowers his voice conspiratorially. "There is always a grain of truth to myths. That's...part of why I'm here."

"Oh?" Valjean's eyes widen a little and he smiles, feeling quite special to be privy to Javert's plans.

"In my clan...we have roles. They are selected by the elders, based on need and predisposition. It was...decided...that I would join the French police force. I've been here six months, as you know. For six months before, I lived alone, for the first time in my life, forging a French identity."

Valjean trailed his fingertips up Javert's shoulder gently, rubbing the other's beautiful dark skin. The creases in his forehead deepened as he frowned. "That must have been hard."

Javert gives a grounding sigh, nuzzling into the hand. "I'm...glad I have you."

"I'm glad too." Valjean smiled, wrapping his strong arms around the soft boy, tucking Javert's head under his chin.

Javert rolls over, showing his lightly scarred bare back, wondering if Valjean will notice.

Valjean's fingers traced the scars slowly, his hand cool against Javert's back. He'd noticed them before... it was difficult not to when he'd been riding Javert. "These look pretty old." he murmured softly. "You must have been young."

"I was five."

"What happened?" he kissed the other's shoulder, still stroking the scars.

Javert hardens a little, shifting so as not to squish his cock. "When every Roma child is five..." he halts, painfully. "...he or she is taken into the woods, tied to a tree and whipped. He or she must then find their way home. Alone." He says this flatly, as emotionlessly as he can.

Valjean pulls the other up against his chest tightly. Though the other is trying to stay cold about it, Valjean didn't miss the painful catch in his voice. "Why?" he whispered.

"It's simple. To prepare us. If we're ever captured by gad--by non-Roma--we have to be ready. For pain, for fear, for being tied up alone."

Valjean kissed Javert's forehead gently. "I'm sorry..." he stroked the roma's dark hair, running his fingers through the thick waves.

"I'm not," he whispers.

"Mon amant." he breathed into the dark hair, sighing.

"Je t'aime. ...what else would you like to know?"

"Whatever you'd like to tell me." he nestled against Javert's strong shoulder. His arm snaked around the roma's waist.

Javert rolls so he's on his back again, showing his erection.

Valjean's hand trailed down the young man's flat stomach, threading through the thick hair between his legs and curling his fingers around Javert's cock.

"...mmm....that's all I'd like to say, for now."

"Mmm." Valjean's smile turned almost to a smirk and he drew his hand up the hard length of Javert's erection. "That's fine. We don't need words." he kissed the other's shoulder and neck.

Javert groans, gripping the cot as he fights not to buck. Sweat beads on his upper lip. "...are you going to tease me?"

"Tease?" he asked, cocking his head to the side slightly, smiling almost mischieviously, looking suddenly younger. His hand didn't stop it's slow, powerful strokes.

"Mmm..." Valjean practically purred, watching his lover. He bent his head, taking the tip of Javert's cock in his mouth, eyes on the roma.

Javert's head flies back, mouth gaping in a silent scream. He's awed by the size of Valjean's mouth.

Valjean's eyes half close with pleasure as he watches Javert buck beneath him. "Mnnn." he purred around a mouthful of his lover.

Javert, who is quite large, finds his cock lost in the cavern of his lover's mouth.

The older man suppressed his reflexive gag, running his tongue and teeth over the other. One hand slid between the other's thighs, brushing against the tight ring of muscle beneath the other's genitals.

"...god..." Javert lifts his hips, guiding the hand further back to his ass. He begins to thrust against Valjean's mouth.

Valjean allowed a couple thrusts before closing his teeth on the other gently, warningly. He slid a knuckle into the other, pressing hard into the tight muscle.

Javert freezes, biting his lip again to keep still. His ass tightens around the finger, moaning freely now.

Valjean curls the finger to find the bundle of nerves, working the tips of his fingers over it rhythmically. His head bobbed a little to give Javert the friction he needed, teeth scraping, tongue exploring.

Javert murmurs "ohgodohgod" over and over, before bucking yet again, coming frantically into Valjean's mouth.

The older man swallowed every drop, cheeks a little flushed as he pulled away, sitting over Javert. "Dieu..." he murmured, watching the other pant, dark skin damp with sweat. "You're beautiful."

"...I only wish I could've lasted longer..."

"You can have me every night." Valjean chuckled, laying down next to the younger man.

Javert flashes him a look, strangely open and almost innocent. "...if only. I meant what I said, earlier."

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow, smiling contentedly.

"No matter where you go, no matter who you become, I will find you."

He flushed. "Find me...?"

"Well, you have to leave here, some day."

"Yes, of course. And so will you. What do you mean, find me?" he chuckled, cheeks still hot.

"You will run. I will chase." He's almost drunk with post-orgasmic relaxation.

"And what will you do when you find me." he practically moaned.

"...find a wall." Javert laughs, "and drop my trousers."

Valjean chuckled. "And when I'm an old man, how will I manage to pick you up like that?" he smirked, flushed.

"Those muscles of yours will never dwindle."

He laughed softly, kissing Javert. "Je t'aime, mon petit."

A little taken aback by the term, Javert peers at Valjean. "Mon grand."

He smiles, eyes closing. When he smiles, he looks a lot younger.

"...do you ever think about what your life might have been? If you weren't here, I mean."

"I try not to." he shook his head.

Javert nods, "I'm sorry...did you always like men?”

"I'd never thought about it until I came here..." he admitted. "And you?"

Javert laughs. "I thought as much...in my culture, it is good and proper for young men to sleep with young men, and women with women, until marriage. Of course...some never marry."

"…proper?" he looked a bit puzzled.

"Young people have certain needs, certain desires. Being with someone of the same gender doesn't lead to pregnancy." Javert's accent has thickened, without him noticing.

Valjean nodded, considering this. "It makes sense, I suppose... I've never... thought about it, is all."

Javert smiles playfully. "That's because you're French." His face hardens a little. "To allow a young woman, a child, to raise a baby alone...and to blame it on her..."

Valjean nodded, laughing painfully. "I know, Javert. Believe me."

Javert bows his head. "Of course, I'm sorry. I read your file."

Valjean sighed, resting his head against Javert's shoulder. "Nothing can be done to change that." Javert pulls as much of the larger man against him as he can.

Valjean gives him a grin, pulling himself on top of Javert and flattening the smaller man, resting his chin on the other's dark chest.

Squashed, Javert gives a little 'mirf' sound, gazing wonderingly at Valjean. "...how do you do it?"

He chuckled softly, getting on his hands and knees so Javert could breath easier. "Do what?" he kissed the roma's forehead.

"You never...seem to regret, or blame, or...or hate."

"I do." he frowned a little. "Of course I do. But I'd rather spend my time with you smiling." he stroked Javert's chest gently. "There's nothing I can do to help them now."

Javert laughs, loudly and helplessly. Finally, brushing tears from his eyes, he gasps, "This world needs more men like you, it truly does. But please, don't hid yourself from me. Even the hard things, the painful things. I want to know it all." He blushes a little; he's not usually one for speeches like this.

Valjean lays next to Javert, hugging the younger man to his chest. "I'm not hiding myself, mon beau." he murmured. "I only realize our time is limited... I'd much rather we spent it happy."

Javert doesn't know what to say, so he just presses himself into the other's chest. "Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime aussi, mon petit." Valjean murmurs into the other's thick hair.

"...mais je ne comprend pas." He laughs again. "No one's ever called me -that- before, certainly."

"I don't imagine anyone else has been bigger than you... my little one." he chuckled, teasingly.

"Certainly not! ...until I came here. Is it a rule that to be a con--here...one has to be excessively large?"

"Hm, I don't think so." he grinned. "Otherwise no one is living up to my standards." he pulled Javert on top of himself with a grin.

Javert laughs. "That's true enough."

A Letter from Valjean to Javert

Mon cher,
I know that it is dangerous for me to write to you, if this letter is found by the guards or read by anyone where you are, in M___ sur M___. One of the new inmates is from there. When he found out that you had, until recently, been a guard here in Toulon, he told us everything he knew about you. I had to pretend not to be interested. It was very hard for me, and broke my heart a little. Most of what he said nonsense, or the kinds of things a prisoner would be interested in. Not, dare I say it, a lover. He noted that you live alone, keep to yourself, and are very involved in your duties. I see that you haven't changed.

This drivel about prisoners is hardly what I want to fill my precious, limited paper with! My thoughts move faster than my pen, I'm afraid. I miss you terribly, of course. But I am so relieved to see you gone from this Hell, and, if I may be so bold, proud of your new position. I am sure that you will soon attract attention in Paris!

Nothing here has changed. Everything is as it was before you came. I wish I had a more poetical nature, so that I could properly describe the difference you made in my life here. I'm sorry, I don't mean to depress you or make you feel guilty, I hope I have not. I could not wait for you to be free of this place, perhaps even more than I can wait for my own eventual release.

Only a few short years, and I will follow in your footsteps to freedom. Then, perhaps, if you still desire, we can have some sort of life together.

By then, I imagine, you will have been transferred to Paris. You will be an officer, living with an older gentleman, quite proper. I will be a gardener again, or perhaps some sort of work with children. I have always enjoyed spending time with children. We will have a tidy little house together, or a flat, and we'll take turns cooking for one another. I do miss cooking.

You will have someone waiting up for you in the evenings, someone to worry when you come home late. Someone keeping your bed warm. I will have everything an ex-convict could ever dream of having, or anyone, for that matter. A beautiful, charming, promising young lover to share my life with.

I am sorry to cut the letter short, but the man I am to give it to is here.

All my love,
24601

the inspector and the drunkard

Javert was only partway through his paperwork of the night and it was getting late. He was considering laying down in his cot for awhile, but couldn't convince himself to stop working quite yet.

R is curled in the tightest possible ball on the cot in Javert's office's cell, making little unhappy sleepy noises.

Javert stopped writing to glance over at the little unhappy ball of boy. He'd almost forgotten there was someone in there. "Grantaire?"

Grantaire grumbles something incomprehensible, but rolls toward the voice.

Javert smiled a little, leaning back in his chair and putting down his pen. "Grantaire." he called again.

R blinks blearily, peering sleepily at Javert. His eyes go wide, and he rolls, falling off the cot and vanishing under the far side.

Javert immediately stands, finding the right key and opening Grantaire's door. He looked partly concerned and partly amused as he offered R a hand up.

R looks slightly embarassed, although the colour on his cheeks could be from many emotions, but still eyes the hand suspiciously. He swallows hard, not moving.

Javert doesn't move either, waiting for Grantaire to decide. "You're not hurt?"

R shakes his head, too fast, and his chest is heaving. His voice is tremulous, and he sounds surprised to hear it. "I'm fine. Please..."

Javert frowns, kneeling next to him, wincing slightly. He still never expects himself to be stiff after sitting at his desk. "What were you arrested for this time? Public drunkenness again?"

R swallows, hard, making an effort to calm himself. "No. P-public indecency." He is, indeed, wearing even more illfitting clothing than usual.

Javert sighs, standing uncomfortably. "You must be cold." he makes his way to the door, leaving it ajar. "I'll make coffee."

R nods, still not moving. "Thank you," he croaks. He tenderly touches his throat. Javert may be able to make out a necklace of bruises.

Javert saw lots of bruises and other injuries on the skinny man. He disliked seeing Grantaire like this. The man was good natured and far too sweet for his own good. Javert made and poured two cups of coffee, leaving them both on the desk.

Grantaire sits, a little stiffly, on the cot, pushing it back so he can lean against the wall, legs tucked up against his chest.

Javert looks sideways at him. "Come out. You can rest on my cot."

R stands, vanishing the mug into his too-large sleeves and drinks, eyeing Javert.

Javert takes a sip of his own. "Are you cold?"

R nods, half drinking and half snuggling his mug.

Javert pulls his greatcoat off it's hook and hands it to R. It too would be much too big, but at least it would be warm.

R takes it, being careful that he makes no contact with Javert. "Thank you," he murmurs, burrowing into the coat until only his eyes can really be seen, along with the occasional white flash of his hand as he drinks.

"What happened?" Javert's eyes watched the coat lump with sad eyes. Poor Grantaire. They should have arrested whoever did this to him, not him.

R wiggles so the coat is sitting properly around his neck, and meets Javert's eyes for an instant. He shrugs. "I was arrested for being naked." The sympathy in Javert's eyes makes him flinch and look away, eyes closed.

"I meant before you were arrested." he said softly. "Who hurt you?"

R shrugs again, gulping his coffee, cursing softly when the hot liquid burns his mouth. He's abruptly in tears.

Javert puts down his own cup, taking Grantaire's and putting it next to his so it wouldn’t be spilled. He slid onto the cot next to the thin boy, holding him gently, not wanting to frighten him.

R stiffens, seeming close to bolting. After a moment, though, he goes utterly limp, to the extent that he would fall if Javert weren't supporting him.

The inspector holds the other against his chest, stroking his hair. "It's alright..." he murmured. "You're safe here."

R snuggles, sniffling a bit, silent tears still flowing freely onto Javert's shirt. "Thank you...I was so afraid...I thought he would kill me. I mean, i've been ra--but this was different."

Javert closed his eyes, heart aching. "I'm so sorry." He pressed his lips to Grantaire's forehead, rubbing the boy's back.

R keeps his eyes closed, but gently leans into the soft lips. His muscles still aren't completely back. "I thought you'd be rougher," he murmurs.

"Rougher?" he looked puzzled.

R looks up at the other from centimeters away. "Your face...your lips..." Despite himself, despite everything, R feels his cock stir. He turns away, a little flushed.

Javert also flushes, shifting away from the other a little. He too was... stirring, and he didn't want Grantaire to notice.

R laughs wryly. "Thank you. I feel...better." He looks a little surprised, but burrows against any available Javert.

Javert nods. "I'm glad." he still tries to keep certain bits of himself away from the other man, but doesn't let go.

R finally makes actual eye contact. "It's alright, you don't have to hide it, I don't mind."

Javert looks away. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

He stood, letting R lean back against the wall. Javert went back to his desk, sitting. "I said you were safe and I meant it."

R wraps his arms around himself in Javert's absence, leaning forward. He raises an eyebrow. "Just because you have a hard-on doesn't mean I'm not safe. It means you're a man."

"Earlier you were too scared to even take my hand. Now you're bold enough to tease me." he smirked a little.

R gives him a very mild version of his usual sideways flirty look. "I told you I was feeling better." He leans forward more, poised to stand, watching Javert.

The inspector laughed a little. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

R gives a deep sigh. "So am I. ...please come back." His eyes are a little lost again, his voice a little pleading.

"I... shouldn't."

"Are you really so concerned about...jumping me? Most, uh, mature men have reasonably good control over that sort of thing."

Javert flushed. "It's more for my comfort than yours, I suppose."

R nods, looking down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He grabs his coffee, goes back into the cell, and lays on the cot, back to the room.

"Grantaire, you're welcome to stay out here." Javert sighed. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I would like the company, and there's no reason you should stay in your cell."

R rolls over, glances briefly at the other man, then quietly stands, goes over to Javert, and sits beside him, a hand hovering over the inspector's shin.

Javert gave him a smile, trying to busy himself with paperwork again.

R takes this as assent, and lets the hand come to rest. After a moment, he lightly rests his head on the inspector's thigh, arms wrapped around the leg.

Javert strokes R's hair gently, hand trailing down the other's face to rub his stubbly cheek.

R makes little purring noises, nuzzling into the hand. "Even your hands are surprisingly soft."

"Well they haven't been doing much but writing lately." he chuckled, enjoying the feel of R's skin under his fingers.

"Why is that?" R adjusts his face so Javert's fingers run across an especially itchy, stubbly section of jaw.

Javert scratches the stubble, smiling down at the thin, bruised boy. After awhile, he gently probes the bruises around R's neck.

R's eyes close and his breathing quickens. After a moment, he relaxes, getting hard again despite himself.

The inspector traces the bruises, some that are obviously shaped like fingers. "You don't need a doctor, do you? You aren't injured anywhere else?"

"I don't think I do...I'm sore, but I'll be alright. Thank you." His voice has gone a little breathy.

"Good." Javert leaned down and kissed the top of Grantaire's head.

R purrs again, melting so that his arms are draped across Javert's lap.

Javert chuckled, pulling R up from under his arms so he could carry him back to his cot. "Poor boy, you lost all your bones." he teased.

"Mmhmmm..."

Javert sat up to undo his boots, ready to quit his paperwork and lay in his cot with a warm cot-mate.

R flops, curled around Javvy, watching the other, awaiting snuggle times. "Mmm, much better."

Javert lay back with the other, resting his head on R's chest.

Sneaky R worms around so that he is instead being spooned by Javert, and sighs his contentment. "I'm sure you've almost died dozens of times," he says, thoughtfully.

He laughed, surprised. "Yes, I've had my share. What made you think of that?"

"I've...had my share of close calls, I guess, and my life has hardly been what you'd call safe, but...I've never had someone -try- to kill me before."

"It's terrifying, isn't it." Javert stroked the other's chest through the illfitting shirt.

R shrugs, shivering happily at the touch. He ignores the question. "Does it ever get easier? ...I never thought I was a coward."

"It doesn't. Not really. I still shake afterwards." Javert smiled a little.

"You're not just saying that?" R frowns a little.

"No. It's much worse when you don't expect it, but it's never easy."

"Thank you." R burrows closer to Javert, capturing the inspector's arms and wrapping them around himself.

Javert squeezed R gently in his arms. "Are you tired?"

"I'm not sure, are you? Maybe it's just nice to be held." (is Javvy hard?)

"You're nice and warm." he murmured, clearly enjoying the snuggles as well.

R laughs. "Thanks to this giant coat...have you shrunk or something?"

"A little." he made a face. "I've lost weight. And it makes me look bigger than I am."

"It does, at that. As if people weren't intimidated enough by you...not me, of course." He rolls so he's facing the inspector to prove his point, their faces nearly touching. "Don't they pay you enough?"

"Don't they pay me enough so that I can feed myself, is that what you mean?" he chuckled. "I forget to eat quite often, and it's rare that I manage to get home, either." he touched his nose to Grantaire's, smiling.

"That is what I mean, and that's a poor excuse. I would never forget to eat." R rubs noses, twitching his a bit, like a rabbit.

"I get caught up in my work." he shrugged his thin, broad shoulders.

"Hmph." Grantaire arches an eyebrow, giving him the expression he deserves.

avert grinned and bit the tip of the other man's nose gently.

Grantaire gives a surprised laugh, retaliating by gently tugging the tempting sideburns. "You need a wife or something."

"I'm already married to Paris." he laughed wryly.

"True enough. But Paris doesn't seem very inclined to reciprocate."

"I suppose I'm the wife, then." he grinned.

"Mmhmm..." R giggles. "You get fuc--made love to--and then off he goes again."

"Exactly. It's a strange relationship." he squeezed his arms around R's waist, hands rubbing his back.

"Mmm...yes..." R says distractedly, moving so Javert will rub his tightest knots.

Javert's slender hands knead Grantaire's tense muscles. The taller man rested his chin against R's shoulder

R goes quite limp again. Well, most of him, anyway. The tender attention squeezes a sighed, "Je t'aime..." out of him.

"Je t'aime aussi." he murmured softly, still kneading.

"Mmm...you know..." he starts, shyly, "I could..."

Javert blinked at him, quizzically.

"I could...help make sure you got fed...if you wanted..."

"Oh?" he chuckled, laughing. He was relieved, he wasn't sure what he'd expected R to offer, but it wasn't that.

"I'm sorry, it's silly...but I've been told I'm a good cook..."

"No, it's not silly. It's just not what I expected. And... I don't know how you'd manage it." he admitted.

R smiles, encouraged. "However you'd like. I could cook and make sure you get food."

"I'm just not home often enough.. and I wouldn't be able to pay you. Except maybe in food and a bed." he laughed. "I don't know why you'd want to, though."

R gives him a very direct look. "Because those things are more than I've got. I could bring you food here."

"I... well. If you wouldn't mind getting the food yourself. I'd pay for it, of course... and you'd have the guest bed whenever I was home." Javert was starting to think it might be a good idea. A good way to keep himself fed and focused on more than just crime in Paris.

"And you could have my bed the rest of the time."

R smiles, briefly licking Javert's nose with the tip of his tongue. "I like the sound of it."

"Ah.." Javert gasped a little, turning his head.

R allows the briefest of frowns to cross his face, wishing the sleeping arrangements were the opposite.

"Do you want to go to my flat now, since I don't think I'll be doing any more work tonight?"

"Yes," he says, a little too quickly.

Javert sat up, stretching uncomfortably. He stood, took some of his papers, his hat and opened the door. "You should probably keep my coat on."

R strikes a charicature-Javert pose, mock-scowling inside the coat. He can't keep it up for long though without grinning.

Javert manages not to smile, giving Grantaire an unimpressed raised eyebrow. "Is -that- what you think of me?"

R wilts, looking sheepish and shrinking in the coat. "...sorry."

Javert grinned. "It was pretty good. You might make inspector someday. But you still need..." he grabbed his black hat and put it on R's untameable mop. "A hat!"

R grins back, attempting to push the hat down so it's not floating on his hair. He gives an elaborate bow, holding the hat on. "Thank you, thank you," he says, grandly, a little giddy from the day's events.

Javert chuckled, putting an arm around the other's shoulders and leaving the building with him.

Javert opened the door to his flat and went in, waiting for R to get inside before closing and locking his door. "Make yourself at home."

R looks around, ensconcing himself on a plain, plush chair. "Thank you," he murmurs, sounding a little close to tears.

Javert smiled, hanging up his coat and hat. "I'm afraid there isn't much food in the kitchen, but I'll leave you money for tomorrow if you want to go shopping. The guest room is there, and my room is here." he leaned against a door that had no handle.

R frowns a bit at the door, but nods. "That's fine, thank you." He yawns broadly. "I don't suppose we could...share a bed...or you would at least stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Yes... if you think that's a good idea." Javert nodded. He opened the door with a push and let Grantaire in. The whole room was decorated like the inside of a caravan, bright colorful silks and sheets hung from the walls and ceiling, the bed was bright and large.

R's eyes widen as he walks into the room, and he glances curiously at Javert, but doesn't say anything.

Javert smiled at him. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about... this." he gestured around them.

"No, of course not!" R shakes his head. "It's beautiful..." He looks at Javert, one eyebrow raised. "You're much more mysterious than you seem..."

He laughed. "Isn't that the point of being mysterious? Not having strangers prying?" Javert started to unbutton his shirt, sitting on the bed.

"That's true..." R turns away, unbuttoning his own shirt.

Javert undresses, stripping to his drawers. He pulls away the quilts and slips underneath, laying on his side.

R undresses as quickly as possible, also to his drawers (we need drawers, if nothing else), and hops under the covers as quickly as he can. Once there, however, he burrows tightly against the other. "Mmm...so soft...is it silk?"

Javert nods, drawing the other into his arms, smiling. Grantaire can feel scars across his thin back.